


Mr. Jones

by orphan_account



Series: Hot For Teacher [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Kindergarten & Pre-school, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Strangers to Lovers, Weddings, single parent!England, single parent!France, teacher!America, teacher!Canada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-18 11:14:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2346440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone's always excited for the first day of school. Especially when Arthur's son's teacher is young, new, and kind of hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mr. Jones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [that-dark-haired-perv](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=that-dark-haired-perv).



> Fillie requested kindergarten teacher!Alfred and single parent!Arthur. 
> 
>  
> 
> Jeanne-Marie - Monaco

The incessant buzzing of his alarm pulled him from sleep with its droning tone, and Arthur groaned as he rolled over, the light from his window falling just across his pillow where his face was and shining in his eyes. He blinked groggily before throwing out a hand to the stupid clock, silencing the annoying sound, and rubbing a hand over his face. He listened to the quick patter of small feet against the wood flooring getting louder as they approached, and he smiled as a small form launched itself at him from the floor. 

"First day of school! First day of school!" Blue eyes were suddenly in his face as the boy looked down at him with a large grin. "C'mon, dad! Get up!" 

Arthur huffed good-naturedly, running his fingers through the boy's hair, similar to his own, and gently nudging him over so he could sit up. "Alright, poppet. Excited, are we?" 

He nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah!" 

Arthur smiled. "Then go get dressed and I'll be down to make breakfast shortly." 

The boy scrunched his nose, giving him a look. "You're not going to actually _cook,_ are you?" 

Arthur rolled his eyes as he stood, heading for the bathroom. "Just for that, I'll make sure to plug in the toaster!" 

"No, that's alright!" He was up and running out of the room. "I'll get the cereal!" 

"No running in the house, Peter!" Arthur called after him, sighing fondly as he took a quick shower and brushed his teeth. He walked back to his room, pulling out a pair of jeans and a button-down, putting his waistcoat on over it, and sliding into his shoes before heading downstairs where Peter was waiting at the table, his legs swinging back and forth. 

Peter smiled at him as he walked in, dropping a kiss to the boy's head. "We're nearly out of milk," he informed, looking at the carton. 

Arthur nodded and went to the stove, grabbing a package of scones from the cabinets above and returning with them and a bowl of jam. "Alright. I'll make sure to stop at the store later today. Anything else we need?"

Peter pursed his lips as he thought about it, tapping his chin. "Not that I can think of."

"Okay." Arthur and Peter ate quickly in silence, Arthur glancing through the morning paper as Peter scurried off to get his things when finished. Arthur set the paper aside once he was thoroughly fed up with the report on the economy, and took their dishes to the sink to rinse them. After drying his hands, he made his way back upstairs to Peter's room, watching as the boy put his new supplies into his new bag. 

"Ready, poppet?" he asked, and Peter nodded at him with a grin. "Come on, then. We're meeting the frog and Jeanne-Marie there before class starts." 

Peter made another face at the mention of Arthur's least favorite coworker who also happened to be his best friend and, often, his babysitter, and Arthur was proud. "Why? Isn't she in second grade?" 

Arthur shook his head with a roll of his eyes as he helped Peter into his jacket, putting on his own before grabbing his keys and following his son out the door. "Yes, but you know how he is— can't do anything by himself, the git." 

Peter nodded in solemn understanding, climbing into the front seat of their car as Arthur slid in behind the wheel. He started the car and pulled out of the driveway, and they made light chat as he drove the ten minutes to the school Peter was now attending. It was his first day of kindergarten, and Arthur was nervous about him being out of his sight for more than five minutes at a time. Peter, however, was absolutely thrilled. 

After locking the car, Arthur took Peter's outstretched hand and led him into the building, students from all grades milling about in the cafeterias and courtyard before the first bell. Peter smiled and pointed things out as they walked through the halls, questioning everything around him with innocent curiosity, and Arthur did his best to answer as they finally came to the hall where Peter's class was located. 

At one of the rooms, Arthur could see the figures of two people, and he rolled his eyes again as he approached his coworker and coworker's daughter. 

The smirk was there immediately. "Ah, _chère!_ There you are! I was wondering if you got lost." 

Arthur sneered. "As if. My sense of direction is fine, thank you." 

"Except when you're pissed," Peter piped up cheerfully. 

Arthur turned a stern look to his son, who looked down remorsefully while Francis simply chuckled. He shook his head, deciding Peter understood he was in trouble and the frog was not worth a response, instead turning his attention to the young girl at the Frenchman's side. 

Her hair was to her waist now, styled into one long, big braid with clips to hold her bangs out of her face. A set of thin glasses sat upon her nose, and she was observing them calmly from her father's side. 

Arthur smiled at her, and she returned it pleasantly. "How are you, dear?" 

"I'm well," she responded, her voice quiet. "Papa bought me several new dresses. Do you like?" She let go of her father's hand to twirl around. 

Arthur nodded. "It's lovely, dear. He spoils you rotten." 

Francis beamed proudly. "Of course, _chère._ Anything for her." He paused, looking down at his watch before back up at Arthur. "School will be starting shortly. I need to take her down the hall a bit." Francis grabbed his daughter's hand, turning on his heel. "I'll meet you at Peter's class." 

"Alright," Arthur replied, turning to take Peter's hand again. "Shall we?" He smiled as Peter nodded and glanced up at the numbers above the doors, looking for the room number he'd been told was his son's class. Locating it just adjacent from them, he guided Peter across the hall and to the open door, walking in behind the boy who was looking around with wide eyes. 

Arthur glanced around himself, taking in the scene of other children milling about, sitting at tables or sprawled on the carpeted floor and messing with toys and crayons, all of them giggling and talking and just generally being kids. He smiled softly, watching a couple of the kids approach him and Peter. 

"Hey! You wanna play with the Legos with us?" One of the boys was looking at Peter with a wide grin, holding out a handful of the building blocks. 

Peter looked up at him, his eyes wide and pleading. He chuckled. "It's your class, poppet. Go make some friends." He gently nudged the boy forward, and Peter grinned as he ran off with the other boys. 

"Looks like the little man's gonna be a big hit," said a voice behind him, and Arthur turned quickly, his heart stuttering from the unexpected presence. 

The man was young, tall with broad shoulders, dressed in slacks and a button-down rolled to his elbows. His blond hair framed his tanned face, one strand bouncing above his head, slim glasses resting on his sharp nose in front of blue eyes the color of the summer sky. His smile was white and bright, and Arthur found himself momentarily frozen in place, simply staring in admiration. 

It took him a moment to realize the man had his hand out, and Arthur felt himself flush as he shook himself internally and gripped his hand, thankful he hadn't started sweating yet. "O-Oh, yes. I'm glad to see he seems comfortable already."

The young man laughed, releasing Arthur's hand much too quickly and not quickly enough. "He's a natural friend-maker," he said happily. "I don't think there's anything to worry about, Mister…?" 

"Kirkland," Arthur automatically supplied. "Arthur Kirkland." 

"Alfred Jones," he replied. "I'm the new kindergarten teacher. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kirkland." 

"Likewise," Arthur's voice was small as he stared at Alfred's smile, feeling it doing things to his stomach and other places that it really shouldn't be doing those things. He felt too warm, and he was totally okay with that, "but please, just Arthur." 

"Sure thing, Artie." Alfred grinned again and Arthur stood dumbfounded, feeling his pulse race. "So, this your first time with a kid in school?" 

Arthur stared again for a moment before blinking and nodding. "Um, y-yes. Peter's an only child." 

"Wife didn't want any more?" 

Arthur looked away, searching for Peter in the midst of the other kids. "She wasn't my wife, and she didn't even want _him._ " He gestured to the messy blond hair of the boy now bossing a few of the other kids around, leading them through some game. 

Alfred looked towards Peter as well. "Oh, I’m sorry, man. That sucks. He seems like a pretty cool little guy." 

Arthur shrugged. "He's everything to me," he murmured quietly. "I'm glad to have him." 

Blue eyes behind thin lenses looked back at him, shimmering warmly as a small smile spread across full lips. "He looks just like you," he commented. "Even the wild eyebrows." He chuckled. 

Arthur snorted and rolled his eyes, crossing his arms indignantly as his face flushed further. "They are perfectly normal," he insisted, definitely _not_ whined. 

Alfred just smiled at him cheekily. "Perfectly adorable," he corrected with a wink and laughed when Arthur looked away pointedly. 

At that moment, a knock came to the door and Arthur and Alfred turned to look at Francis standing there, looking both bemused and knowing from the door, a smirk on his lips. "I hadn't realized there were two of them," he commented, eyeing Alfred. 

Arthur frowned while Alfred laughed again. "What?" 

"He means Mattie, my brother," Alfred clarified, shoving his hands into his pockets. "He's one of the new second grade teachers down the hall." 

"Yes, and my daughter is in his class," Francis informed. "Quite a looker, much like yourself." He winked at Alfred. 

Alfred just rolled his eyes, and Arthur denied that surge of jealous anger in his veins. He'd just bloody _met_ the young man, and he was Peter's _teacher._ It was so wrong on so many levels. 

Arthur forced himself to walk towards the door, away from the fantastic specimen of man that was Alfred, shoving Francis out the door. "Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Alfred, but I'm afraid we must be going." 

"Sure, Mr. Kirkland," Alfred said, watching with a grin. "I look forward to having Peter in class." 

Arthur smiled back at him. "Of course. Oh, and as much as I despise him, Francis may be picking up Peter from time to time. My work schedule flexes quite a bit." 

"Not a problem." Alfred waved as Arthur made his way to Francis down the hall. "See ya, Artie!" 

.

Later that night, when Arthur was tucking Peter into bed, the boy looked up at him with a smile. 

"Did you have fun today, Peter?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

"Yeah, lots!" the boy exclaimed, gesturing with his hands. "We played with the Legos for a while, then I led everyone to victory in a battle against the aliens, then Mr. Jones had us introduce ourselves by playing another game and he even gave out sweets when he asked if anyone knew the alphabet and I was the only one who knew it all!" 

Arthur smiled. "Well, it sounds like quite a day." 

Peter nodded. "Yeah. He's pretty cool. He even let me eat his fries at lunch!" 

Arthur raised an eyebrow, standing to press a kiss to Peter's temple. "Well, how nice. He sounds like a fun teacher." He pulled the comforter up to Peter's chin, smiling at him. "Now, it's time for you to sleep. Love you, poppet." 

"Love you too, dad," Peter said sleepily. "Oh, Mr. Jones said to tell you he'd like to get together for lunch sometime. He wants to introduce you to his brother." 

Arthur stood frozen for a moment before coming back to himself. "W-Well, we'll have to see." He walked quickly to the door, turning out the light. "Goodnight, poppet." 

"Dad?" Peter's voice was muffled under the covers. 

"Yes?" 

"I think he likes you." 

Arthur breathed in and out twice. "Oh." 

"He'd make a pretty cool dad."

The silence stretched for a moment as Arthur tried to calm his racing heart. "Y-Yes," he agreed, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat. "Yes, I think he would, too." 

Peter peeked out of the covers to look at him, his blue eyes— summer blue, Arthur realized— watching his father with mischief. "I like Mr. Jones." 

Arthur smiled in defeat, grabbing the door handle and pulling it closed. "I like Mr. Jones, too, poppet. I like him very much."


	2. Just Alfred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mini sequel requested by Anon on tumblr.

Arthur glanced at the dashboard clock again, grumbling to himself as he tapped impatiently on the steering wheel. He was already nearly half an hour late - no thanks to his boss - and the traffic was horrendous at lunch time; Peter was probably wondering where he was. 

As soon as the light turned green, Arthur let a sigh escape his lips and continued to make his way to the school, deftly maneuvering around the imbeciles on the road. It was another ten minutes before he was pulling into the parking lot, shutting off the engine and locking the car as he hurried into the building, swiftly making his way to Peter’s classroom. 

His breathing was heavy with his brief jog down the corridors and his irritation, and he paused outside the door to compose himself, running a hand through his hair quickly and smoothing his shirt. His heart was still racing as he entered, smiling as Peter noticed him and ran to him. 

"Dad!" The boy flung himself at Arthur, who stumbled back a step with a chuckle. "What took you so long?" 

"Sorry, poppet," he apologized, running his hand through Peter’s hair. "Traffic is awful at this time of day." 

"Lunch rush, Mr. Kirkland?" 

Arthur looked over to the desk at the far side of the room, feeling the butterflies in his stomach stir as he met Alfred’s eyes. The young teacher had a wide grin on his face, his eyes sparkling merrily. “Indeed,” he finally replied, feeling his face heat; he really needed to stop staring. “And my boss was adamant that I finish the report before I left.” He grimaced. 

Alfred chuckled. “He sounds just  _delightful,_ " he drawled, scrunching his nose with his sarcasm, and Arthur’s knees suddenly felt like jello. "Good thing my boss likes me." 

"Yes, well." Arthur sniffed, looking down at Peter. "Have you eaten, poppet?" 

Peter looked up and shook his head. “Not yet.” 

Alfred walked over, slinging his jacket over his shoulder as he approached Arthur and his son. “Hey, since y’all haven’t eaten yet, how ‘bout we grab a bite together? Afternoon class doesn’t start for another hour.” His eyes twinkled as he winked at Arthur, and Arthur felt his blush from before return with a vengeance. Alfred was  _much too close._  “My treat.” 

Oh, Arthur was done for. He couldn’t stop  _staring -_  Alfred really was too handsome for his own good. “T-That’s really not necessary, Mr. Jones,” he stuttered, trying to breathe through the lack of oxygen. Had it been this warm when he walked in? “Thank you, though.” 

"Oh, c’mon, Artie~" Alfred stuck his bottom lip out, his eyes widening, and - oh, bloody hell, he was legitimately  _pouting._  “Anywhere you want!” 

Peter tugged on his sleeve. “ _Please,_  dad? I’m hungry!” 

Arthur looked between the two, his son’s eyes just as wide and pleading as the teacher’s, and he was caught at how Peter had Alfred’s eyes exactly. 

Oh, he was  _so_  screwed. 

With a long-suffering sigh, he relented. “Oh, alright! Enough of the face!” 

Alfred threw his fist up as Peter whooped. “Yes! Thanks, dad!” 

Arthur rolled his eyes fondly, pulling his son to the door as Alfred followed, turning out the lights and taking his keys out of his pocket. “Yes, yes. Calm down, poppet.” 

As they exited the building, Peter ran ahead to their car, and Arthur walked next to Alfred, watching his son with a soft smile. At the feeling of a light touch to his wrist, Arthur looked up at Alfred, his smile widening. “Thank you, Mr. Jones. Really, though, you needn’t -“ 

Alfred lifted his hand, pressing his finger to Arthur’s lips to silence him. “Not a problem, Artie. I said I wanted to take you to lunch anyway, didn’t I?” 

Ah, yes. Peter had said something about that, hadn’t he? Arthur glanced down with a nod. “I suppose you did.” 

"Then we’re all good." Alfred stepped back, throwing his thumb up to gesture over his shoulder. "I’m parked over there, so I’ll meet you guys at the diner on eighth, okay?" 

"Sure. We’ll see you there, Mr. Jones." Arthur turned to head to his car, where Peter was waiting, bouncing on his feet, for Arthur to unlock it. 

"Please," Alfred said, winking again. "Just Alfred." 

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head and ignoring the butterflies in his stomach again as he unlocked his vehicle, letting Peter in. 

Climbing into the car, Peter looked at him with bright eyes. “Can I call him Alfred, too?” 

Arthur looked at his son as he backed out of the parking space, turning to follow Alfred to the diner. “He’s your teacher, poppet. That wouldn’t be appropriate.” 

Peter blinked, frowning slightly as he turned to gaze out the window. He was silent for a moment, before: “Can I call him Alfred when you become a Mr. Jones?” 

Arthur sputtered, choking on air as he looked incredulously at his son, his eyes wide and cheeks hot. “W-What makes you think I’d ever be a Mr. Jones?”

Peter looked at him as if the answer was obvious - oh, the simple minds of children - before shrugging and looking away again. “Okay, a Kirkland-Jones, then. Either way, can I call him Alfred then?” 

Arthur remained silent until they arrived at the diner, sitting for a moment, watching Alfred exit his car before sighing and getting out himself to follow his son in for lunch. Sitting at a table, Alfred caught his eyes, smiling brilliantly and looking at him softly with such affection that his breath caught as he returned the smile with a small one of his own. 

He had to admit,  _Kirkland-Jones_  certainly had a nice ring to it. Peter might be on to something. 


	3. Jones-Williams

"They got the starboard engine, Captain!" Peter's voice carried in the class as he ran, holding the spaceship in his hand and moving it up and down unsteadily through the air. "We need to land now or we won't make it out alive!' 

Turning on his heel, Peter made his way back the other way, bringing up the other ship in his other hand. "They're gaining, Captain! Shields won't hold— we're only at forty-six percent!" 

Alfred was watching him in amusement, sitting back in his chair and foregoing looking over the worksheets the class had done that day in favor of the little man. A smile played on his lips. 

"Commander, how long 'til impact? Two  minutes, Captain!" 

Alfred had to hold back a giggle. Yes, a legit _giggle._  

"Captain, they're firing!" 

Peter had started making the firing sound effects, the _pew pew pew_ s taking over as he continued running in circles, the ships waving up and down and basically all around. Alfred felt his smile get even wider. 

The little man was a total Trekkie, and Alfred couldn't help but feel so proud of him. 

The teacher saw in his peripherals a form enter his class, and he grinned, showing his teeth, as his twin brother entered the room, looking just as amused at the six-year-old weaving around the chairs and yelling about crash landings. 

Matthew raised an eyebrow as he took the perimeter around to Alfred's desk. "Intense chase, eh?" His smile was wide as well. 

Alfred laughed. "Oh, yeah. Little man's a total Trekkie, Mattie." 

Matthew hummed in agreement as Peter continued, falling to the ground as the ships crashed. He giggled breathlessly as he looked up at his teacher, smiling wide as he noticed both of them watching him. "They did it, Mr. Jones!" he exclaimed, standing and running to his teacher. "They got the bad guys!" 

"Awesome!" Alfred laughed, high fiving Peter. "The heroes save the day once again!" 

Peter nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah!" He turned to Matthew then, grinning. "Hey, Mr. Williams! Did you see it?! Heroes win!" 

Matthew chuckled. "I sure did, Peter," he said. "I take it the Captain and his crew are all safe now?" 

The child nodded seriously. "The CMO has looked them all over and they're all good." He sat down with a small huff at the chair by Alfred's desk designated for his students, and his smile was still wide. "They'll be heading back to HQ soon, after they check their supplies." 

Alfred and Matthew both nodded in understanding. "Well, that's good," Alfred said, leaning onto his elbows on his desk. "Universe is safe another day." 

Peter nodded, falling silent a moment to catch his breath. "So…" He looked between the two teachers, squinting as if there was something he'd been wanting to ask. "If you guys are brothers, why don't you have the same last name?" 

Alfred and Matthew shared a look, smiling back at Peter. "Well, actually, we do have the same last name," Matthew said. "It's actually Jones-Williams." 

Peter cocked his head to the side, his large eyebrows— _just like Artie's_ , Alfred thought with a fond smile— furrowing. "So, why don't you go by that? Why are you Mr. Williams?" 

Matthew shrugged. "Well, it'd be pretty confusing to have two Mr. Jones-Williams working at the same school, wouldn't it?" 

The little man pursed his lips as he pondered on this, and Alfred chuckled when he nodded. "I guess. But why did you choose Williams? And why did Alfred go with Jones?" 

"Because Alfred Jones sounds cooler," Alfred stated, winking at Peter. "Alfred Williams didn't have the same heroic ring to it!" 

His twin rolled his eyes as Peter gazed up at him in awe. "Yes, and since he took our dad's last name— Jones— I took our mom's and went with Williams." 

Peter "oh"ed, like the light had been turned on and suddenly everything made sense. "They didn't want to give up their last names?" 

Alfred shrugged this time. "Guess not." 

"Makes sense," the boy said. "Dad wouldn't want to give up his name, either. Said he'd never be a Mr. Jones, so he'd have to be a Kirkland-Jones." 

Alfred laughed outright at that, both at the statement and his brother's questioning look asking _Why the hell would that even be something to think about?_  

Peter simply smiled innocently, and it wasn't a moment later that a third man walked in, his blond hair tied back with a blue ribbon and his sea blue eyes sparkling in bemusement. Peter caught sight of him and stood up, going to grab his bag. "Hey, Uncle Francis!" 

" _Bonjour_ , _chère,_ " he replied, watching the teachers. "Did I miss something?" He looked to the Canadian teacher, tossing a wink in Matthew's direction and smirking at the resulting flush on the teacher's cheeks. "And _Mathieu!_ How nice to see you!" 

" _Bonjour, Monsieur Bonnefoy,_ " Matthew replied, a small smile on his lips. He ignored Alfred's taunting poke to his side and the devilish grin he knew was on his twin's face. " _Ça va_ _?"_

" _Oui._ Just here for Peter." Francis watched his best friend's son putting away his things before finally grabbing his bag. "Ready, _chère?_ Your _père_ is tied up at the office right now, but he should be home in an hour or so." 

"Okay!" Peter turned back to the teachers, waving. "See ya tomorrow, Mr. Jones!" 

With another wave, the two left, and Alfred sat back, smiling contentedly as he and his brother sat in silence until the bell for the end of lunch rang, and Matthew stood. 

He looked back at Alfred, a smirk on his lips as he back out of the room. "Kirkland-Jones. Really?" 

Alfred rolled his eyes, feeling his face heat as he threw the closest thing he could grab at his twin— a wad of paper— making a face as Matthew ducked and began snickering. "You're just jealous, Mattie!" 

Matthew just shrugged, rolling his eyes and leaving the room. "Whatever you say, Al! You keep telling yourself that!" 

Alfred pouted as his afternoon class began trickling in, but it didn't last long, eventually pulling up into a smile as he took roll and began the class a few minutes later. 

 _Alfred Kirkland-Jones._ He could work with that. 


	4. Al and Artie

Arthur sighed, running a hand through his hair as he glared down at the reports. Nothing was making any sense, and he couldn't figure out what was wrong— his boss had been on him to fix it because the sales were not lining up with the finances. It looked as if the company was losing money, and Arthur could not for the life of him see _how_.  

A knock came to his door, and he glanced up to see Francis standing there, arms crossed. "What?" 

"It's nearly a quarter to five, _chère,_ " he replied, walking into the office. "Isn't Peter's conference time five-fifteen?" 

Arthur glanced at his desk clock, eyes widening. " _Shit_ , frog, why didn't you say anything sooner?!" He scrambled up, hastily packing the papers into his bag and grabbing his coat, shrugging into it. "Is Jeanne-Marie's today or tomorrow?" 

"Today, but at six-thirty," Francis answered, following Arthur out of the office. "Peter's in the lounge. We'll see you tonight at eight." 

Arthur waved over his shoulder, heading to the lounge area and searching out his son. The boy was hunched over the coffee table, doodling on a pad he'd been provided with crayons. "Peter, come on, poppet." Arthur held out his hand as Peter looked up and began gathering his things. "We may have to rush a bit— I completely lost track of the time." 

"That's okay, dad," Peter assured him, pulling his backpack on and skipping over to Arthur, taking his hand and following him out. "Mr. Jones won't mind." 

Arthur hummed. "Yes, but _I_ will." He smiled down at his son. "It's the principle of the matter." 

Peter just nodded, and they made their ways out to the parking lot and to their car. It was a twenty minute drive from Arthur's office to the school, and if he pushed the speed limit to pull it down to a fifteen minute one— well, no one else had to know. 

They made their way into the school hand in hand, the sun starting its decent towards the horizon as evening began. Arthur let Peter run ahead, following the boy to his class and straightening his shirt, attempting to smooth his wild hair. Looking into the classroom, Arthur could see Alfred smiling and talking to another couple, their kid looking around the room inquisitively. Arthur's own smile pulled up his lips as he watched the teacher from the door, keeping an eye on his own kid as Peter ran up and down the hall. 

It was another five minutes before the couple stood, Alfred standing with them and shaking the father's hand before walking them to the door. They parted with small polite waves before Alfred turned to Arthur, his grin widening exponentially. "Artie! Just who I wanted to see!" 

Arthur chuckled, looking away to hide the damned blush that seemed to be perpetually present whenever he was around the young teacher, calling out to Peter. "Come on, poppet!" 

Peter stopped his trek down the hall, turning on his heel and running back. "Hey, Mr. Jones!" he called, smiling up at Alfred. "Can I pull out the Legos while you and dad talk?" 

"Sure thing, little man," Alfred laughed, ruffling Peter's hair before turning and leading Arthur and Peter into the room. "Just put 'em back when you're done." 

"Yup!" Arthur watched as Peter hurried to the other side of the room, pulling out tubs as he followed Alfred to his desk, seating himself in one of the chairs next to it. Alfred flopped into his own seat, scooting close and propping his chin on his palms. 

Alfred grinned in Peter's direction. "I don't know how you manage it Artie," he said softly, blue eyes focused on the blond head bent over the building bricks. "He's a little ball of energy."

Arthur chuckled lightly. "That makes two of us," he commented, watching Peter as well. "He's definitely a handful sometimes, but he has never been a burden." He paused, looking back at Alfred and biting his lip in thought. "Has he… He's not struggling, is he?" 

Alfred looked back at him, his smile soft. "No, he's probably the coolest kid in the class," he admitted, leaning back. "Everyone loves him, and he's got great leadership potential— I haven't seen that in any of the other kids yet." His eyes were soft. "He's very smart, his grades are some of the highest, and while he _can_ be a bit distracting on occasion, he's got a lot of curiosity and fascination about a lot of things. The others love him." 

Arthur felt his shoulders relax, his smile easy. "I'm very glad," he said. "I was afraid he may be a loner, like I was." He scoffed. "I was a quiet child, you see, and I never made friends easily— still don't really, but it's better." 

Alfred eyed him with a teasing smirk. "Old man from the day you were born, huh?" 

Arthur rolled his eyes. "And I see you've not grown up at all." But he was grinning anyway. 

The teacher just shrugged, leaning forward again. "What can I say? I'm a kid at heart." 

He snorted, crossing his legs, leaning back against his own chair, turning to watch Peter for a moment before looking back at Alfred with a smile. "I can see that." 

Alfred winked. "You like it." 

Arthur didn't dignify that with a response, instead ducking his head to once again hide the flush of his face. It wasn't helping anything that his heart was beating much faster than he thought it should, nor that the butterflies in his stomach had stirred up into a frenzy. 

It was quiet for a moment between them, the only sounds in the room Peter's sound effects and the click of plastic Legos coming together. Arthur watched his son, trying to not enjoy the warm feeling settling inside him as much as he knew he was. 

Glancing at his watch, Arthur was sad to realize their time was up, and he stood. "Well, I'm glad to know Peter's doing well." He smiled at Alfred, who stood behind him as he turned to Peter. "Come along, poppet. We need to let Mr. Jones get to his other appointments." 

Peter pouted with a whine before beginning the deconstructing of his tower, putting the toys away as Arthur headed to the door slowly, Alfred walking beside him. "He's brilliant, Artie." He smiled wide. "I think he gets it from his dad." 

Arthur just scoffed and rolled his eyes, feeling his chest swell with the praise as he ushered Peter out the door, the boy heading down the hall ahead of him to talk to one of his classmates. "Of course he does. It certainly didn't come from his dimwitted uncles." 

Alfred laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, uh, Artie. I was wondering." 

"Yes, Alfred?"   

Alfred pursed his lips, looking shyly at Arthur, and his thoughts seemed to spill in a rushing torrent of words. "Well, okay, I kind of _really_ like you— like, Mattie won't stop frickin' _teasing_ me about it, the jerk— and I really wanna say you like me too, because you blush a lot around me and it's the absolute most adorable thing ever, and c'mon, even Peter likes to hint at it— he's way too smart for a six-year-old about these things, but he's right— and I don't know how much longer I'll be able to stand it, so would you like to, um, go out to dinner this weekend? If you're not busy?" 

Arthur blinked, completely caught off guard. _Dinner? With Alfred?_ He internally scoffed to himself— out of all of that, _that's_ what he pulled from it?— and shook his thoughts away. Bloody hell, why hadn't he said yes already? "O-Oh, no, I'm not busy," he stuttered out, cursing his blush once again. "Yes— yes, dinner sounds lovely, Alfred." 

The blinding smile Alfred gave him made him melt. He coughed to clear his throat, meeting Alfred's eyes with a smile of his own. "And, yes, I really kind of do like you, too." 

He hadn't been expecting the sudden hug, Alfred's arms holding him tight as he spun them around, but Arthur couldn't say he didn't like it; in fact, he enjoyed it quite a lot. 

"Great, Artie! Oh, man, I'm so glad you said yes 'cause I felt like an idiot for a minute there, but this has to be the best day ever!" Alfred was practically bouncing. "Okay, how 'bout Saturday? I'll pick you up at seven?" 

Arthur nodded, trying not to laugh at Alfred's enthusiasm. "That sounds fine. I look forward to it." He straightened his shirt again, walking out of the classroom. "See you Saturday, Al." 

Alfred waved, his smile big. "See ya, Artie!" 

Arthur smiled all the way to the car, holding himself back from sighing in contentment at the turn of events. Peter was watching him with narrowed eyes, but Arthur ignored the questioning look from his son in favor of controlling his very unbecoming and childish urge to giggle. 

"Uncle Francis owes me ten dollars," Peter suddenly informed him, crossing his arms over his chest and looking out the window with a grin that was way too satisfied for Arthur's liking. 

He narrowed his eyes at his son before concentrating back on the road. "And why does he owe you money?" 

"Because he lost the bet." 

What was the frog teaching his son? Arthur knew he was a bad influence. " _What bet?_ " 

"I bet him ten dollars that Mr. Jones would ask you out tonight, because he's been saying he really wanted to," Peter explained nonchalantly— not that he knew that he was in trouble. Yet— shrugging. "He didn't think he'd do it for another week at least." 

Arthur was too confused to even be mad, really. "And just _where_ were you going to get the money if you'd been wrong?" Because really, how did Peter even _know_ these things? Alfred was right: Peter was way too smart for a mere six-year-old.

Arthur could only blame himself. Well, he _could_ blame his brothers, but they didn't have the intelligence, so yes, it was all on him. 

Peter snorted, as if offended. "You." Like it was _obvious._  

Arthur drove in silence a moment before shaking his head, pulling into their driveway and parking. Peter hopped out and he followed his son up to their home. "Al was right— you are a mischievous little brat, poppet." His tone was warm, however, and proud.   

Peter just smiled innocently up at him. "'Al'? Is that your nickname for him like he calls you 'Artie'?" 

Arthur shot him a look, feeling the embarrassment creep back up. "Go wash up for dinner," he grouched petulantly. Honestly, who was the child here? Because he wasn't certain it was Peter. "We're meeting them for dinner at eight." 

Peter turned around to walk off, giggling as he headed for the bathroom. "Al and Artie, sitting in a tree~" he taunted, "K-I-S-S-I-N-G~" 

Arthur slumped onto the sofa, putting his head in his hands with a groan. 

Francis was _so_ dead.


	5. Mr. Dad

Alfred clapped his hands together, gaining the attention of the twenty pairs of eyes spread out in the room, a smile on his face. "Okay, guys! Let's get the toys put away and get back to our seats! I've got a new assignment for you today!" 

He grinned and shook his head at the groans he was given, but moved around the room to help the kids put things away, straightening the tubs and bins full of building blocks and action figures as they took their seats at the tables. 

With a nod towards the cleaned area, Alfred went back to his desk, picking up the large ream of copy paper, the package of construction paper, and the bins of colored pencils, crayons, and markers, bringing them to the table at the front of the room and setting them down, turning to look at his class. 

"Okay! So today, we're gonna do a bit of coloring," he announced, and that gained him some small cheers. Hey, coloring was better over addition any day, even in his books. "And what we're gonna color is a family portrait," he continued, gesturing to the table. "There's paper and colors up here, so come up and grab what you want. 

"I want you guys to draw your family— mom, dad, sisters, brothers, pets, whoever you count as family." 

The kids nodded in understanding, and Alfred stepped over to his desk. "Alright, then! Have at it, and turn in your picture at the end of class! Have fun!" 

Alfred sat back as his kids ran up to the front, excitedly chatting about their families and who they were going to draw, the sound of rustling paper and the coloring media rattling together as they picked what they wanted and headed back to their seats. 

It was more an excuse for Alfred to sit and do nothing for a while, letting him get through grading the math worksheets they'd done the week before and catch up on his own homework for his graduate engineering classes. Being a part-time student and full-time teacher was a lot more work than he'd anticipated, but he wouldn't change it for anything. 

Instead of any of his work, however, Alfred leaned back in his chair and watched the kids scribbling away, letting his mind wander back to something— _one_ — much more interesting. A soft smile founds its place on his lips as he thought about his favorite— because really, he did have a favorite, even though he wasn't supposed to— student's absolutely adorable dad. 

It had been an awesome few months with Arthur (and by extension Peter, but he saw the little man every day anyway, so it didn't count the same). He'd found that Arthur was literally grumpy all the time, both loved and hated Francis (who Alfred was pretty sure had managed to ask Mattie out like, the week after he and Artie got together) with equal fervor, and was the absolute biggest nerd besides Alfred himself, able to quote _Doctor Who, Lord of the Rings, Star Wars_ and _Trek_ , _Harry Potter,_ and even _Supernatural_ to a degree with ease and pride like he'd written the scripts himself. 

He learned that Arthur was as English as they came, drinking his leaf water religiously every day, and his hobbies included knitting, embroidery, Shakespeare, and grumbling about Alfred and his "American-ness" in the most adoring voice ever. 

Alfred had never been more in love. 

The bell signaling the end of class brought him out of his memories, and Alfred shook his head with a goofy smile as he stood from his seat. "Okay, guys! If you're not done, don't sweat it. We'll work again on these tomorrow, so put your things back and hand me your pictures on your way out. Have a great day!" 

The kids scrambled around, chattering filling the air as they cleaned up and Alfred gathered his own things to be able to head out to lunch after the last of them was picked up. He wasn't surprised when Peter was the only one still sitting at a table, scribbling away with the crayons. 

"C'mon, Peter," Alfred called, walking over to the kid. "Your dad told me Francis was comin' to get ya today." 

Peter looked up and nodded. "Yeah, but I'm almost done!" 

Alfred leaned over him, looking at the drawing. It was decent for a kindergartener, and Alfred could clearly make out three forms on the paper, two of about equal height and one that was about half that. "Who've you drawn there, little man?" 

Peter pointed to the smaller one. "That's me," he said, and Alfred hummed in response. Ah, now he could see it— the wild blond mop of hair, the blue eyes, and the large eyebrows just like his dad's. He pointed to the taller figure that looked similar. 

"That your dad?" 

The kid nodded again. "Yup! And," he pointed to the other figure, still blond, but with what he assumed was glasses and a large smile, "that's you."

Alfred felt warm all over, his heart beating against his chest as he squatted down, looking over at Peter. "You think of me as family?" 

Peter shrugged. "Of course I do. You make dad really happy, and he smiles a lot more when you're around." He smiled down at his drawing. "I wouldn't mind you really being my dad, too." 

Alfred was definitely _not_ about to tear up and cry; he was too heroic for that, but it didn't stop him from wrapping an arm around Peter's shoulders, pulling him into a hug. Peter leaned back, wrapping his small arms around Alfred's chest and returning the hug. "I wouldn't mind that either." And if he choked a bit with emotion, well, Peter wouldn't blame him. 

Pulling back after a brief moment, Alfred took the picture up to his desk as Peter put his things away, grabbing his bag from his cubby and sitting with his teacher to wait for his ride. Francis walked in five minutes later, smiling and waving to Alfred and Peter as the kid ran over to him. 

"Ah, _chère,_ " he said, looking at Alfred. "Arthur wanted me to let you know he will be able to make it tonight. The meeting was cancelled due to something or other," Francis waved his hand in a vague gesture of _I don't actually know what's going on_ and Alfred smiled wide, "and he's going to get out early. He'll be waiting for you to pick him up." 

"Okay, great!" Alfred was bouncing with excitement. "Tell him I'll see him at six, then!" 

"Will do," Francis smiled, and with a wave, he was turned and headed out the door. 

Peter looked over his shoulder as he followed, waving enthusiastically, a bright smile on his little face. "See ya, Mr. Dad!" His eyes widened, and he gave a short embarrassed laugh as he ran out behind Francis. 

Alfred had never heard anything that sounded more _right_ , and he couldn't hide his happiness even if he tried. "You too, little man." 

Turning to grab his things, he would completely deny to Matthew later that he'd been caught skipping through the halls on his way to his car for lunch. 

Though he totally did. 


	6. Kirkland-Jones

Arthur tugged on his collar, looking over himself in the bathroom mirror and appraising his appearance. The suit was dark charcoal, pressed, tailored to fit his form quite flatteringly, his shirt a muted olive green complimenting the deeper emerald of his tie and eyes nicely. 

Pleased with that, Arthur ran a hand through his wild hair, not even bothering to attempt to tame it— _that_ was a battle lost before it began— and grabbed the gold watch from the sink counter, clasping the cool metal to his wrist as he walked back into his room over to his shoes and slid into the leather. He grabbed his wallet and keys from the bedside table and made his way downstairs as the front door opened, and he smiled as his son came running in, kneeling down to meet him in a hug. 

"Hey, dad!" 

Arthur chuckled. "Good evening, poppet. How was school?" 

Peter moved away, heading into the kitchen to set his bag down on the table to start on his homework. "It was alright. Miss Héderváry let us watch a movie at the end of class today." 

"That must have been fun," Arthur commented, pulling food out of the fridge for snacks for Peter. "So, you like her alright?" 

It was the second week of Peter's first grade year, and Arthur was having to watch him adjust to a new teacher and new classmates once again. He was still as lively as ever, though, so Arthur didn't worry too much. 

The boy shrugged, sneering as he pulled a worksheet towards himself and Arthur couldn't stop the small grin at his son's hate of homework spreading across his face. "She's nice," he replied, grinning up at his dad with a much more smirk-like smile than Arthur though he should be capable of. "Not as cool as Alfred, though. He's the best!" 

"Glad you think so, little man." Arthur definitely didn't fight the smile on his lips as said teacher— his _boyfriend;_ Arthur was quite fond of the term— walked into the kitchen, carrying bags on his arms. He set them down, mussing Peter's hair with a large grin and resisting when the boy tried to bat his hand away. "You're pretty awesome yourself." 

Arthur hurried over to his boyfriend, standing on his toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek. "Hello, love," he greeted. "Are you ready for tonight?" 

Alfred smiled brightly, returning the kiss with one to the corner of Arthur's quirked lips. "Almost, babe. Let me change my shirt first." He winked and turned on his heel, heading up the stairs to the guestroom where Arthur kept his changes of clothes when Alfred wanted to spend the night. 

Arthur turned back to the sandwiches he was making for Peter, finishing cutting the crusts off and setting the plateful on the table in front of the blond boy, going to grab him a juice box from the fridge. Alfred was back downstairs moments later, the ironed blue shirt matching his eyes and his jacket thrown over his shoulder. 

"Ready!" 

Arthur nodded and leant down, pressing a kiss to Peter's head quickly. "Alright, poppet. Francis should be here momentarily, and you have our numbers in case you need anything, yes?" 

"Yeah, dad," Peter said, giving him a quick hug. "Have fun tonight!" His look was intense, as if he knew something Arthur didn't. "Love you!" 

Arthur shrugged it off. "Love you too, poppet! Be good!" He followed Alfred to the door, grabbing his coat from the rack and putting it on, taking the arm Alfred offered as they headed to the teacher's car just as another pulled into the drive. 

Francis waved to them as he stepped out, Jeanne-Marie following behind as they went to the door. "Have a good evening, _chère,_ " he called with a wink. 

"Sod off!" Arthur called back affectionately, sliding into the passenger seat as Alfred did the same behind the wheel, starting the car and pulling out deftly. 

The ride to the restaurant was quiet, filled with Alfred's humming to the songs on the radio and Arthur twining their fingers together between the seats before reluctantly letting go to get out once they arrived. He took the American's offered arm once again as he was pulled to the doors, sighing as the warmth and savory aromas of the food hit them as they entered. They were seated at a small table for two near the private section, away from the loud families enjoying a night out, and next to the window overlooking the lakeside where the restaurant was located. 

Arthur's smile was bright and soft throughout the whole of dinner; he'd never felt as happy as he did when with Alfred, who was so sweet and charming he wasn't sure how he'd manage to get him all to himself. Surely he wasn't worthy of someone so innocently happy all the time, but he wouldn't give it up for the world. Alfred was always animated in a story, smiling like he owned the world and the heavens, too, and the butterflies in Arthur's stomach hadn't settled since Alfred had asked him out nearly a year ago. 

He would never admit that he didn't mind them one bit. 

Dinner was a lovely affair, the food cooked just perfectly and the wine smooth against his tongue. Arthur wasn't normally big on it, but he did know good Merlot when he came across it (he refused to acknowledge Francis' role in his learning, however). Alfred was nearly vibrating in his seat with excitement, and Arthur couldn't help but chuckle at his precious boyfriend as they ate and conversed easily. 

What Arthur didn't know, however, was the reason for Alfred's excitement, which was really more anticipation than anything. Alfred could pull off a convincing smile, and he used that to his advantage as he tried to keep his leg from bouncing wildly, like it did when he was nervous. He could feel the object in his pocket pulling the fabric of his slacks tight with every shift he made, and his heart was hammering in his chest as he prepared himself for the moment. 

Alfred had decided to wait until they were done with dessert, as if to make sure he had something to throw up if Arthur said _no_ — but he wouldn't; he was going to say _yes,_ and Alfred needed to quit worrying about it. He'd never been as happy as he was with his Artie, and he was pretty sure Arthur felt the same. There was no need to panic. 

Not that that stopped him from wiping his palms against his pants as they finished their meal, the chocolate cake rich and sitting nicely with the rest of his food as Alfred tried not to pass out from lack of oxygen with as bad as quickly as he was breathing. Arthur was smiling warmly, completely at ease, and Alfred concentrated on the light flush of his boyfriend's cheeks and his adorable laugh to calm himself. His own smile was full of love and adoration as he reached into his pocket and withdrew the small black velvet ring box. 

It was time. 

Arthur leant back in his chair, sighing in contentment. "This was lovely," he murmured softly, gazing with tender eyes at his young American boyfriend. "Thank you, Alfred." 

"Anything for you, Artie," Alfred replied, reaching for something in his pocket. "I've enjoyed tonight, too. In fact, I've got one more little something for you." He took a deep breath through his nose, and Arthur watched him curiously as he rose from his seat, coming around the table to Arthur. 

Arthur's heart nearly skipped a beat as he watched Alfred sink to one knee beside him, and he could feel the eyes of the other people in the restaurant on them, their quiet murmurs softening even further as Alfred took his hand, lacing their fingers together. "A-Alfred…"

His smile was timid as he looked up at Arthur, and Arthur felt his heart stutter again. "It's been an amazing year, Artie," he started, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into Arthur's hand. "I can't express just how happy I am that Peter was put in my class— we really owe it all to the little man, huh?" 

Arthur couldn't help the small chuckle and the twitch of his lips as he squeezed Alfred's hand. 

Alfred squeezed back. "It seems really cheesy, but I knew you were the one the moment you walked into my classroom. You knocked me off my feet with your immediate old man charm—" Arthur had to smack him; Alfred just laughed, "— and your eyes— God, your eyes are one of my favorite things about you, Artie. I just knew I was lost the moment you looked at me." 

Arthur felt the heat rising to his cheeks and ears, but he couldn't turn away from the man knelt in front of him. "Al…" 

"You're my everything, Artie." Alfred's eyes were sparkling in the low light of the restaurant, the blue of his irises like sapphires behind his glasses. "I love you, and I love Peter, and I would give anything to be able to stick around by your side to watch him grow up into the man you raise him to be." 

Arthur watched with tears in his eyes as Alfred brought his other hand up, letting go of his long enough to open the small box, revealing the metal band within. It wasn't thick, though not thin either, silver and delicate inlaid with a single emerald. It was beautiful, and Arthur's throat felt thick with emotion. Alfred caught his eyes as he set the box gently in Arthur's hand, holding them carefully in his larger hands. 

"Arthur James Kirkland, grumpy old man, total nerd, loving father, and my entire world," Arthur held his breath, "will you allow me the most amazing, wonderful honor of marrying you?" 

Arthur choked out a short, incredulous laugh, reaching out to caress Alfred's face and cup his jaw. "After that speech, how could I say no?" His voice was breathless as his tears fell down his cheeks. " _Of course_ I will." 

The room erupted in congratulatory cheers as Arthur pulled Alfred up, their lips meeting in a sweetly tender kiss, Arthur's arms immediately finding their place around Alfred's neck as his boyfriend— no, _fiancé_ now— picked him up and spun him around, careful of the table even in his ecstatic joy. Setting him down carefully, Arthur pulled back for air with a smile, unwilling to back away from the man he loved as Alfred's own tears fell, too, and he watched as Alfred removed the ring from its box and reverently slid it onto his finger, the metal glinting in the light. 

"It's perfect, Alfred," he murmured softly, taking his fiancé's face in his hands and kissing him again, and again, and again. 

Alfred laughed softly against his lips, returning each kiss with equal fervor. "You deserve nothing less, Artie. Peter helped me pick it out, though." 

Arthur pulled back slightly, quirking an eyebrow. "Oh, did he?" 

Alfred leant to press a kiss to his brow. "Sure did! He's even the one that told me you'd be a Kirkland-Jones because you'd never be a Mr. Jones." His smile was cheeky.

Arthur smacked him again, but leant forward, resting his head on Alfred's chest as they walked out of the restaurant to more congratulations. "He told you, too, did he?" 

"Yeah." Alfred chuckled as he held Arthur's door as he climbed in. "Sneaky little bastard, ain't he?" 

"Hm," Arthur smiled, waiting until his new fiancé— he liked that even _better_ — had started the car and was pulling onto the highway before taking his hand and holding it tightly, twining their fingers and leaning his head on Alfred's shoulder. "Yes, he is, but he was correct." 

"Sure was," Alfred agreed, squeezing his hand and smiling over at him. "Kirkland-Jones just has this _ring_ to it, y'know?" 

The titanium band on Arthur's finger glinted again under the passing streetlights. "Yes. Yes, it does." 

Peter really was the most brilliant child ever. 


	7. Epilogue: Mr. and Mr. Kirkland-Jones

Alfred hadn't been this nervous in his life, and that included the night he proposed. He stood at the front of the outdoor pavilion, gazing out at the guests milling about as they waited for the ceremony to officially begin. 

It was a small wedding, the guest list barely reaching about twenty. Most of them were friends and coworkers— Alfred's besties Gilbert, along with Gil's partner Roderich who'd been more than happy to provide the music, Elizabeta, and Ivan and Yao because honestly Alfred was too intimidated to not invite his favorite communists (no really, he loved the guys. Sometimes),  and Arthur's closest acquaintances Lukas, Ludwig (Alfred refused to believe he and Gil were related even a little bit), and Lovino, along with significant others Mathias, Feliciano (who Alfred wasn't surprised to find was Lovino's brother), and Antonio— and, of course, family: Arthur's three older brothers Alistair, James, and Dylan who'd flown in the month before (and quite frankly were the funniest people Alfred had ever met), Francis and Jeanne-Marie, and Matthew. 

Oh, and Peter, of course. Alfred smiled as he watched the little man scurrying about, laughing with the uncles he hadn't seen in a year or so, and just generally making a nuisance of himself before things started. 

"You gonna throw up yet?" Matthew's voice was in his ear, and Alfred could hear the smirk. 

Alfred snorted. "If I do, I'll make sure to aim for you, you jerk." He pouted when Matthew only laughed at him. "You won't be laughing when you have to clean up whatever it was I had for dinner last night!" 

Matthew gave him a disbelieving look. "Al, you're gonna be the one cleaning it up if you throw up on me." He shook his head fondly at his twin before wrapping him in a hug. "You're fine. I'm not worried about you reliving dinner again." 

Alfred snorted but returned the hug. "Gah, I'm so nervous, Matt! I wasn't even this bad when I proposed to him!" 

"It's going to be _perfect_ , Al." Matthew smiled at him, his indigo eyes twinkling as he looked over his brother, smoothing down the lapels of his jacket, the deep black lint-free as made sure by Francis, his blue tie bringing out the swirling azure in his eyes. His hair was as tamed as it usually was, the little cowlick bobbing in the slight breeze of the cool spring afternoon. "There's nothing to fret over." 

"Easy for you to say," Alfred muttered, but he smiled regardless, his nerves more at ease from his twin's reassurance. "See if you're still saying that when you're the one standing here." 

Matthew rolled his eyes. "I think we both know I'm going to be in Arthur's place," he returned with a smirk. 

Cheeky bastard. Alfred scoffed but relented, his mind going to his soon-to-be husband at the mention of him. "Think Artie's this nervous, Matt?" 

Matthew shrugged, looking to the building where they were going to hold the reception and where Arthur was currently waiting for his cue as soon as they started. "I'm sure he is, Al." 

Matthew didn't know how right he was; Arthur was pacing back and forth in front of the mirrors that Elizabeta had set up so he could check his appearance, his stomach doing odd flips as he thought about what was getting ready to occur. 

Oh, God, he was getting _married._ To _Alfred,_ the love of his life and most annoying person he'd ever met, next to Francis. He wrung his hands in front of him as he took deep breaths, forgetting to bother calming himself in order to concentrate on not messing with his tie or collar or something. 

What if this was a mistake? What if he and Alfred didn't work out or decided they didn't want this anymore? He couldn't put Peter through the repercussions of that! Oh, this was a bad idea, they should just— 

"Are you trying to wear a hole in the ground, _chère?_ " 

Arthur's head snapped up at Francis' voice, his glare that had been trained on the floor now on the blond Frenchman walking towards him. "Belt up, frog," he shot back pathetically, forcing himself to stand still. "I just—" He cut off, looking at himself in one of the mirrors. 

"You're being melodramatic, is what you are," Francis chastised, coming to place his hands on Arthur's shoulders. "I can see it in your head: you're wondering if this is the right thing to do." 

"But what if it isn't, Francis?" Arthur couldn't help his worry. "What if—" 

"Do you love him, Arthur?" Francis interrupted, looking at him pointedly in the mirror. 

"With all my heart," Arthur answered automatically, almost defensively, no hesitation, and he smiled. "With all my heart," he repeated softly. 

Francis released his shoulders and turned him around, a smile on his face. "That's all that matters, _chère._ You don't need to worry about anything else." He gestured to the doors. "He's out there waiting for you, just as in love and nervous as you are, and it's going to be _parfait._ " 

Telling himself he'd deny it vehemently later, Arthur stepped forward and wrapped his best friend in a tight hug and feeling the man return it. "Thank you, Francis. For everything." He pulled back, coughing awkwardly. "That didn't happen, and we never mention it again. Deal?" 

Francis smirked. "Deal." 

The doors flew open as they turned away from each other, Elizabeta rushing in. Her hair was pulled up in a loose updo, chestnut tendrils falling around her face delicately and a flower pinned in for decoration. Her dress was a lovely pale pink, draping around her flatteringly but not enough to draw too much attention to herself as literally the only woman at the ceremony. Her smile was large as she sauntered forward to envelope Arthur in a hug. 

"Oh, don't you just look handsome!" she cooed, pulling back to look him over. Arthur could see the tears she was holding back, and he could feel his own starting to creep in. "You and Alfred are the most adorable couple ever! I'm so glad I was lucky enough to get Peter— I'd heard all kinds of sweet things about you from Alfred when he talked about you and the 'little man'!" 

Arthur felt his cheeks beginning to flush at the praise. "Thank you, Elizabeta. Peter enjoys your class quite a bit." 

She smiled. "Oh, I know! He's a blast to have, Arthur. I'm almost jealous how you do it; my own kids aren't nearly as behaved as he is!" 

Francis and Arthur both snorted, sharing a look. "If you consider that behaved, I almost don't want to imagine how much worse it could be," Arthur said with a laugh, and Elizabeta rolled her eyes with a laugh of her own. 

"They're little devils, I'm telling you." She sounded proud, and Arthur felt his own pride at his son swell as well. "But enough about them. It's almost time!" 

Suddenly Arthur's nerves were back, and he took another deep breath to clear his mind. "Okay. Okay." 

Francis' arm was around him immediately. "You're fine, Arthur. Think of Alfred. He's out there waiting for you, so just concentrate on him, _oui?_ " 

Arthur nodded and focused his mind's eye on the man waiting at the "altar", his smile no doubt bright and large as he waited for Arthur, looking irresistible in his tuxedo. Arthur's heart raced for a completely different reason as Elizabeta ran back out and Francis led him to the doors, waiting for the cue. 

This was it. 

Alfred fell silent from his on and off conversation with Matthew as the gentle notes of Pachelbel's Canon in D started from the grand piano to the side of the raised platform he was on. Matthew stepped back, taking his place as Alfred's best man, smiling out as he watched with Alfred and the rest of the guests as Alfred's whole world emerged from the doors of the reception hall. 

Arthur had decided— _adamantly_ — against Francis' suggestions of wearing a dress (honestly, he wasn't a _woman;_ that was the whole point of his relationship) and instead had picked out a white tuxedo to keep with the "bride wears white" tradition (he had to relent that he _was_ the one walking down the aisle, after all). The lapels were satin, glinting almost rainbow-y in the sunlight. His shoes were white as well, polished to a shine, and his shirt was pressed perfectly and without wrinkles. The only color on him was the emerald of his tie to match his eyes, with a sparkling sapphire broach holding it down, companion to the emerald broach on Alfred's tie. 

Alfred's smile could rival the sun as he gazed happily in adoration at his Artie, making his way gracefully down the aisle to the music, his arm through Francis' as Arthur had requested him to take the honor of walking him down. His brothers had enthusiastically agreed, all three of them content to stand in as groomsmen instead, and Alfred noticed the silent tears in their eyes as well as his own. 

Peter was happily walking in front of them next to Jeanne-Marie, her tossing out rose petals delicately as her job as flower girl, and Peter cradling the pillow with their rings on it as if it was a precious treasure. 

Arthur was sure his heart was going to leave his chest as he smiled up at Alfred, standing and watching him the warmest smile and brightest eyes, and it took all he had not to simply rush up to him. He could barely feel the pressure of Francis' arm over his own happiness making him feel lighter than he had in a long time, and he wanted to laugh. 

They were finally together after an eternity and a decade of walking, the final notes of the piano fading out as Arthur slid his hand into Alfred's, feeling his nerves leave and his heart warm him, a sense of peace washing over him as he looked into blue eyes and found himself at home. He squeezed Alfred's hand, smiling when Alfred squeezed back, and they turned to face the preacher smiling on them with the love of a father. 

"We are gathered here today to bear witness to the union of these two men in the bond of holy matrimony. As requested by the two, we'll keep this short and sweet." He smiled as everyone laughed, and Arthur couldn't contain his grin up at Alfred as they gazed at each other. 

"You have each prepared vows that you wished to repeat?" he asked, and they nodded, the preacher gesturing to Alfred. "The floor's yours, son." 

Alfred took a deep breath, smiling down at his Artie as the butterflies in his stomach beat against it in excitement. 

"Arthur, I've said it before, and I'll say it every day until the day I die: you are my whole world, and I can't express just how much I love you, am in love with you, and always will be. You make me the happiest man alive, you make me a better person, give me the will to _be_ a better person, and I don't know how I managed before you." He paused to breathe as Arthur rolled his eyes, the tears falling freely. "I love you, Artie, and I promise to be here for you— and for Peter— for as long as you'll have me." 

Arthur could hear the muffled sniffs of their guests as the preacher turned and gestured for him to say his own vows. With a deep breath and a smile, he looked into Alfred's eyes, eyes that mesmerized him and held him and always looked at him with love and warmth. 

"I've been told I can turn a phrase without even thinking about it, but I've never found myself more tongue-tied in my life since meeting you, Alfred. You take my breath away, and I feel like I can accomplish anything knowing you're always right here, with me, cheering me on." Alfred squeezed his hand for emphasis, and Arthur felt another tear roll down his cheek. "You have no idea what you mean to both me and Peter, Alfred. I could never have imagined that I would be so lucky, and I wouldn't give it up for the world. You are my everything, and I love you more than I can possibly say, so I hope to be able to try for as many years as you'll let me." 

The preacher nodded, his own eyes misty as Arthur tried hard not to simply jump Alfred right then, the rest of the ceremony be damned. His heart was loud in his ears, and he felt about to burst with joy. 

"And now, the rings." Luckily, they had asked for a short ceremony, so the preacher immediately gestured Peter forward, and Arthur smiled down at him as he and Alfred grabbed the rings, the boy's eyes filled with cheer. 

The preacher turned back to Alfred, and Alfred took Arthur's hand, sliding the ring onto his left ring finger.  "Do you, Alfred Frederick Jones, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer and poorer, until death do you part?" 

"I do." Alfred's smile was blinding. 

Turning to Arthur, Arthur took his cue and slid the other ring onto Alfred's left ring finger, feeling another weight lift from his shoulders seeing the gold band resting on the tanned hand. "Do you, Arthur James Kirkland, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer and poorer, until death do you part?" 

Arthur looked up into Alfred's eyes, and he'd never felt more sure about something in his life. "I do." 

The preacher smiled again. "Then with these rings, and your vows, and by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you Mr. and Mr. Kirkland-Jones." He looked to Alfred, giving a slight inclination towards Arthur with a wink. "You may now kiss your bride." 

Alfred chuckled, and Arthur shook his head as he brought his hands up to cup Alfred's face. "Git," he murmured as Alfred's lips met his, a feeling of wholeness and completion washing through them as the guests erupted in cheers and clapping. They were ignored, Arthur's focus on his new husband and him alone as they shared their passion in the kiss, reveling in the knowledge that it was something to last forever. 

They pulled away eventually, turning to smile out at the guests, everyone crying and smiling as they walked back out, Peter holding both of their hands between them and pulling them to the reception hall. The sun was still high in the sky, the breeze still cool and pleasant as they all headed for food and dancing and drinks. 

Alfred and Arthur cut their cake and shoved several pieces in each other's faces, laughing as they licked the icing off their fingers and cheeks, and they joined in the dancing with their friends as the day wore on, the light fading to the orange of sunset as the merriment continued. 

As night approached, Alfred and Arthur slow danced their first slow dance as a newlywed couple, and traded off partners and chatting with everyone before being ushered to the doors where a limo waited to take them to the airport for their honeymoon, of which neither of them knew where was because Francis and Matthew had planned it all and it was supposed to be a surprise. 

Peter was by them up until the doors, holding onto Arthur's hand, a smile on his face. Arthur knelt down next to him, pulling him into a tight hug that was returned in full. "Oh, I'm going to miss you, poppet," he said, burying his face into his son's hair. 

"Me, too, dad," Peter agreed, pulling back to look at his dad. "You have fun, though, okay?" 

"Of course, poppet." Arthur smiled tiredly, pressing a kiss to Peter's temple. "You be good for Matthew and Francis, yes?" 

"Duh," Peter moaned, giving him a smirk. "I'll make sure to move his shampoo in the mornings."

Arthur grinned. "That's my boy." He stood, walking with Peter over to Alfred who turned from saying goodbye to Matthew. "Hello, love." 

"Hey, sweetheart." Alfred pulled Arthur into another kiss before letting go and bending down to Peter. "Hey, little man. You gonna miss me, too?" 

Peter nodded vigorously. "Yup! But you need to have fun with dad, okay? I'll be fine." 

Alfred ran a hand through Peter's hair. "Of course! Heroes look out for people, though, so I need you to watch out for Mattie, okay? Make sure he doesn't get into trouble." 

Peter laughed. "Okay!" He paused shortly, then threw his arms around Alfred's shoulders, Alfred immediately returning the hug. "Love you, dad." 

Arthur met Alfred's eyes, smiling softly as Alfred grinned. "Love you too, little man. We'll be back in a couple weeks." 

Peter sniffed and nodded, pulling back to give Arthur one more hug. "Love you." 

"Always, poppet." Arthur patted his head gently. "We'll see you soon." 

Peter nodded again, and Alfred took Arthur's hand, leading him out of the building and into the night as they headed for the limo, their guests cheering again and tossing the customary rice at them as they made their way to the vehicle. They waved back at them, relaxing when they saw Peter next to Matthew and Francis, and slid into the sleek interior as they told the driver to perform his duties. 

As they headed out, Arthur slid up next to Alfred, burying his face into his husband's neck and wrapping his arms tightly around him. He hummed contentedly when he felt Alfred's arms come around his hips, massaging up and down his back. After a quiet moment, Arthur turned his head down to look at his hand, grabbing Alfred's and watching as their rings— the gold bands and Arthur's titanium engagement ring— glinted together. 

"Mr. and Mr. Kirkland-Jones," Arthur mused, a smile spreading his lips as he looked up at his husband. "I like it." 

Alfred laughed and nodded, leaning down to press their lips together again. He would never get used to that, but: "I _love_ it." 

It was official. 

Mr. Jones was Arthur's most favorite teacher _ever._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all your support of this story. I really appreciate it. 
> 
> Please feel free to check out _**Bonnefoy-Williams**_ , the much requested Franada companion to this story.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: [leviathncas](http://leviathncas.tumblr.com)


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